


Brits, Birthdays, and Breaking Dean Winchester

by Ismene_Jane



Series: Mary Sue Bestie Threesome Ridiculousness [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Balthazar (Supernatural) Lives, Crack, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingering, I Don't Even Know, Love Confessions, M/M, Mary Sue, Multi, PWP, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, this is still the silliest thing I've ever written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 12:24:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismene_Jane/pseuds/Ismene_Jane
Summary: A sequel to "Rare Insight into British Relations." Balthy and Crowley give their lovely Lucy the best birthday ever.





	1. Anticipation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pegasus_Eridana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegasus_Eridana/gifts).



> Sooooooooooo I wrote this shit like two years ago, and then NEVER POSTED IT. I'm doing so now. 
> 
> You should probably read the first one first, or you will be mightily confused.
> 
> Thanks to Pegasus_Eridana for editing her (in every sense of the word) fic, and then being unbelievably patient with me.   
> There will be a third chapter when I get around to writing it. ;)

Maddie had loved the fruit basket. It had been absolutely _enormous_ , one of the ones with muffins _and_ chocolate and had cost a bloody fortune. Maddie had been confused as to the reason for the basket, but grateful nonetheless. Lucy had decided not to tell her the reason she had spent a hundred plus pounds on a present for her best mate, as Maddie would have been as likely to think her insane as she would have to be excited.

But as Lucy paced her sitting-room and contemplated the last ten weeks, she decided that the expenditure had been completely justified and worth every single penny.

The two and a half months since she (with the help of Maddie, hence the giant fruit basket) had accidentally summoned Balthazar, angel of the Lord and had gotten Crowley, occasional King of Hell in the bargain had been the happiest in her admittedly short life.

To be fair, it was probably all the sex. They had christened every single room of her father’s parsonage… including her parents’.

Crowley could be incredibly persuasive.

The only downside was that they had absolutely, totally, and in all other ways _ruined_ her for anyone else. She’d known it that first day, as she watched through hooded eyelids as an actual, not figurative, but _actual_ angel ate her out. No being of any sort had ever had their tongue on her clit, and after Crowley had showed her that a demon’s tongue could be just as talented, she knew that she would only want those two tongues wrenching moans from her normally-so-reserved throat for the rest of her life.

Good thing they were immortal.

And insatiable.

And _incredibly_ good to her.

Lucy smiled as she thought of the trouble they were going through to give her the best twenty-first birthday a girl could ask for. Better, really, because she couldn’t have cooked this plan up in her wildest dreams. Though, thanks to her two companions, those dreams had become quite a bit wilder since February.

Now, as she waited for them at just before midnight on the eve of her twenty-first birthday, she let herself remember the last time they had been together.

She smiled as the visions bloomed in her mind: Crowley on his knees in front of her, opening her up with his tongue and fingers as Balthazar rutted against her bottom, kissing her neck and shoulder.

Then, her on all fours with Crowley pounding into her on her parents’ bed, Balthazar’s heavy prick in her mouth where she sucked him like she was sucking a vanilla malt through a straw. That’s how Bal liked it, with the attention all on his crown and just intense suction until he inevitably came messily down either her or Crowley’s throat. Or over one of their faces, depending on his mood.

That had been Lucy’s favourite. The time when she sat on Balthazar’s face backwards so she could watch his cock disappearing into Crowley’s mouth as both supernatural beings used their mouths to produce orgasms rather than snark.

Though the snark was nice, too.

She had come for the first time that day at the downright _obscene_ vision of Crowley pulling off of Balthazar’s cock just in time to catch all of his release on his lips, cheeks and nose. Lucy had lost it whilst looking at cum dripping from Fergus Crowley’s dark eyelashes. It was the first of many orgasms that day, she came and came until she was so blissed out that up was down and she didn’t even really mind the taste of herself on Bal’s mouth when he kissed her as he fucked her right afterwards, Crowley spreading her wide enough to eventually take them both.

Normally she minded, as it was a visceral reminder of how wanton she was with the angel and demon.

She was still British, after all.

As she stood there, waiting, imagining, she could feel her face turn as red as it did that first time, and thanked God yet again for making her the luckiest girl in the world.

“If my Father were around,” the smooth voice of her angel ( _her_ bleeding _angel_! What the bloody hell was her _life?!_ ) whispered into her ear, “I’m sure he would appreciate the gratitude, love.”

Lucy smiled, and shivered, anticipation and arousal already spiking up her spine. “Balthazar,” she breathed.

“Mmmmm. Yes, love?” Lucy could feel him smiling lazily into her neck where he was currently tracing his lips over her skin, mouthing along her pulse points and setting her aflame.

“Where’s Crowley?” she allowed herself the indulgence of reaching behind her and fisting a hand in his short (and somewhat thinning) hair.

He nipped her, hard, just below the ear. “It’s Alfred’s hair, darling, and I’ve never heard you complain about my vessel, before.” He turned her around and let his hands settle on her waist. “Fergus is making sure everything’s settled, then I’ll fly us to your birthday present.”

Lucy felt herself flush with happiness, desire, and love for the angel in front of her. “Do excuse me, Bal, I promise I wasn’t complaining. I love your hair, as I Io—” she stopped herself before she continued that thought, forcing her mind to go blank.

Having a boyfriend/lover/what-have-you who could read your mind was sometimes exasperating.

“Anyhoo,” she said, plastering a smile on her face, “I don’t know if I’ve told you how much I appreciate all of this. The trouble you’ve gone to, I mean.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes, fondly, leaning his forehead against hers. “For the last time, sweetling, it’s no trouble at all. We are very happy to be celebrating your life. Besides,” he added, catching her mouth in a short but dizzying kiss, “it’s not every day that the female component of your human/angel/demon ménage a trois turns twenty one. It would be remiss of us to let it pass sans fanfare.”

Lucy allowed herself to quirk an eyebrow. “Fanfare?” she queried.

“Yes, love,” he answered, smiling wickedly. “Fanfare. There will be fireworks. Perhaps even bugles and flags.” He winked at her expression of fear. “Now, let’s go before our demon gets testy. Nothing good ever comes of that.”

“Ah yes,” she agreed, nodding sagely. “Fire and brimstone and hellhounds and such. Best avoided, that.” The silence at her comment surprised her, but when she looked at Bal, he was staring at her with a look of such wonder that she instantly felt self-conscious and humbled.

Nothing quite like an infinite being staring at _you_ like you’re precious to really make a girl’s birthday pretty fabulous.

“What?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“You,” Balthazar answered, pulling her close again. “You are quite an incredible person, Lucy Bennett.”

She blushed again. Crikey, but this birthday was going to be awesome.


	2. Hobbiton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex and stuff.

Crowley was getting impatient.

To be fair, he never really _was_ all that patient to begin with, but this was just ridiculous.

He’d been in New Zealand for over an _hour_ , making sure preparations were perfect for his human lover’s birthday.

That sentence was completely mad. When had his after-life become so insanely cocked?

Now he was waiting for his angel and his human in bloody Hobbiton, of all places, and they were _late_. If it were anyone else, Crowley would have been preparing to smite the offenders on site.

He, Fergus Crowley, crossroads demon, King of Hell, and all-around bastard waits for absolutely no man.

He does, however, wait for a certain angel and a certain woman, when the occasion calls for it. But he was getting testy. People tended to get tortured when he got testy.

But not tonight. Tonight, he was going to do whatever Lucy wanted, if it killed him. Because it was her birthday, and she had brought a joy and light into his world that he hadn’t thought possible at this stage of his incredibly-long existence.

It probably wouldn’t kill him, besides the many little deaths he would no doubt experience that day and night. He smiled at the thought, all teeth in his desire to taste her pure skin once again.

At that, as if summoning her to him, he heard the unmistakable whoosh of Balthazar’s wings and the even more unmistakable squeal of Lucy’s joy.

“Hobbiton!” she cried, turning around in circles, taking it all in. She stopped abruptly when she noticed Crowley, and enthusiastically threw herself into his arms. “Crowley!” she enthused, making him smile, despite himself.

“Yes, luv. Happy birthday.” He breathed in her scent of tea and purity with just a hint of wildness and adventure and smiled even wider. “Now, what say we go inside Bilbo’s house and indulge in some birthday sex?” He nuzzled into her hair and felt her breath catch in her throat. Yes, that. That was what he wanted. He wanted his birthday girl, feeling unfathomably jealous of her excitement over a damn hobbit hole.

Balthazar snorted behind him, hooking his arms around Crowley’s waist and hooking his chin over Crowley’s shoulder.

“I told you, Lucy,” the angel murmured, self-satisfaction evident in his tone, “We left him too long. Fergie’s getting testy and needy.”

Crowley saw red for a moment.

“I am _not_ , nor have I ever been, _needy_ , you _bastard_.” He tried to pry himself from their grip, but they had him sandwiched like a cucumber. Lucy pulled his face down to look into his eyes.

“Now, now,” she said, in the same tone one would use to calm an angry dog. Wench. “No need for that, Crowley. You may not be needy, but I certainly am. And I would very much like to be indoors. With you. On a bed, preferably.” She pulled his face down for a kiss, and he reluctantly melted into her embrace, sucking the sinful purity, the light of her, off of her tongue.

He felt, more than heard, her moan, and it vibrated down to his very toes. He hoisted up her black party dress far enough to slip his fingers under her panties and into her folds, where he found her wet and hot as a furnace.

“Christ, Luce,” he moaned, breaking their kiss. “You’re wet, love. You want me in there?” He could hear her blood get stuck in her veins as it valiantly attempted to rush to both her twat and her face. It never ceased to amaze Crowley that his beautiful Lucy was still so easy to flummox.

Considering all of the ways that he and Bal had fucked, sucked, and licked her, it was endearingly strange.

She choked out a moan when he slipped a finger inside of her, and he answered it with one of his own when he found her already loose.

“Bal,” he managed, feeling the word punch out of him in a wave of arousal so strong he could barely breathe around it. “Bal, she’s already open and ready.” He felt Balthazar leave his back in a flash, watched him reappear behind Lucy, sliding an arm around her to slip a finger inside her body alongside Crowley’s.

His angel had no words, he just moaned as he confirmed what Crowley had said, pulling Lucy’s head back with his free hand to claim her mouth in a punishing and yet rewarding kiss.

Crowley watched them, feeling his arousal build from his very toes at the sight of his beloved angel and –yes—also beloved human losing themselves in one another.

“You dirty, perfect little thing, you,” he said, plunging two more fingers inside of her. “You already opened yourself up for us, didn’t you? What did you use, hm? That vibrating dildo that I gave you, or just your fingers?” He twisted his fingers inside of her, making her jump and all three of them moan. “Damn her propriety, Bal, tell me what she’s thinking.”

He opened his mind to Balthazar’s and was flooded with images of Lucy on her bed that evening after supper, trying to be quiet as she methodically worked one finger and then another and then another inside herself until she was writhing on the bulk of her hand.

Balthazar cut to what she was thinking of in that moment, and Crowley’s hips stuttered forward at the sight. The fantasy showed both he and Bal inside of their human, Bal on his back with Lucy plastered on top of him, while Crowley kneeled behind and rocked all three of them to a messy, incredible completion.

“Blimey,” Crowley whimpered (though he would resolutely deny it later).

“Cripes,” Bal moaned, eyes hooded and breath coming in pants over Lucy’s swollen lips.

“Bed,” the birthday girl commanded. “Now.”

Crowley had never snapped his fingers so quickly. Alive or no.

 

~~~

Balthazar was worn out. And he was an angel, so that was saying something.

He supposed that three hours of rather spectacular sex would do that to any type of being, immortal or no.

“Hrrrnnng,” Fergus gurgled from where he was still buried in Balthazar’s ass, having collapsed there after they had given Lucy her very last birthday present: Balthazar licking her to her umpteenth orgasm while she got to watch Crowley pound the angel into putty.

It was always the quiet ones, Bal mused, not for the first time.

He looked up at Lucy from his spot on her thigh, the sight of her blissed out face making something warm and alive settle into his grace.

Father, he really loved this woman.

“Agreed,” Fergus murmured behind him. “Except for the ‘Father’ business, of course.” Balthazar smiled, not realizing that he’d projected his thoughts, but lovingly and spitefully adding a prayer of thanks to his Father for Crowley, as well.

“Hmmmm?” Lucy hummed, opening her eyes and settling a curious gaze onto Bal’s face.

“Nothing, love,” he murmured, stroking idle patterns into her skin. “Fergus and I were just agreeing on how bloody lucky we are to have you.”

Lucy snorted out a laugh, which made Bal raise his eyebrows.

“ _You’re_ lucky?” she said, incredulously. “I think I reserve that title, good sir.” The words were lazy, but they had a shred of self-doubt in them that Bal simply could _not_ abide.

He silently asked Crowley to pull out, and cleaned them all with barely a thought before sitting up to face Lucy, an earnest yet soft expression on his face. He sent another silent query to his demon, and, upon getting an affirmative answer, locked his strong gaze with Lucy’s.

She was still lazy and loose from orgasm (or _orgasms_ , he thought, smugly), but she met his gaze with concerned eyes that showed the beauty of her soul.

He could stare at her forever, and had every intention of doing so.

Once Crowley had settled next to him, framing Lucy in a perfect triangle, Balthazar spoke: “We have one more gift for you, love. We’ve been waiting to give it to you because I was afraid you would be overwhelmed. I’m terribly sorry if you are, but Fergus assures me that I’m being a ‘pansy-assed Englishman’ and that you need to hear it from us, first.” He cleared his throat, nervous at the thought of her reaction.

What if she said that it _was_ too much, that _they_ were too much? Crowley was a right bastard when he was on his _best_ behavior, and the rest of the time, he did awful things with glee. And Balthazar hadn’t been much better in his time. What could this perfect creature possibly want with two such tainted lovers?

He had almost gotten the nerve to say the words when Crowley let out an exasperated breath and said, “We love you, you dirty, wonderful girl. There, I’ve said it. Are you going to run for the hills?”

Balthazar tentatively looked up to see Lucy’s face. It was wide with shock, but not in a bad way. She was, in fact, tearing up.

“You… you mean…” she began, sitting up a little straighter.

“It’s true, Luce, and I apologize for the imposition, but we need you. Of course, you can always leave if you want, if you decide that we’re too much for you. I know this is ever so much to ask, but—” Bal let out an oomph as he suddenly found himself with a lapful of Lucy.

“Heavens no,” she was saying, and it was music to his ears on the level of angelic choirs. “I love you, too, you daft angel.” She turned so she was facing Crowley. “Both of you. For as long as you’ll have me, I’m nothing if not yours.”

Balthazar felt tears leak from his eyes as he hugged her back tightly to his chest, beaming for all the world when Fergus’ arms came up to encircle them both.

“Bloody sentimental angels and _women_ ,” he grumbled. “How is this my existence?” But he was nuzzling Bal’s face as he said it.

“Oh, hush, you,” Lucy commanded. “You love us. You said so yourself.”

And Bal thought his heart might explode when he heard Fergus respond, “Yes, I suppose I did.”

And there, in that hobbit hole, in New Zealand, Balthazar felt contentment as he had never felt in the millennia of his life.

“Now,” Lucy said, levity breaking the tension. “I have one more birthday request.” Balthazar lifted his head from her shoulder and lifted his eyes to Fergus’, who was staring at Lucy with equal parts incredulity and pride.

Yep, that’s their girl.

“And what, pray tell, could that possibly be?” Crowley asked, oozing danger and charm and seduction and everything else that had caused Balthazar to first fall for the demon.

He watched all of that drain away from the former King of Hell in a flash at Lucy’s next words.

“It’s time,” she said, with finality. “It’s time to cuddle Dean Winchester into submission.”

And as Balthazar laughed himself silly at the horrified look on Crowley’s face, he thought once again about how lucky he really was.

God save the Queen, his life was perfection.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos=Balthy/Crowley/Lucy orgasms.  
> Comments=Dean shnuggles.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
